The Map of Nine Hearts

The world sees numbers—a bustling nine beneath one roof,
A complex map of lives, giving ample social proof
That we are crowded, loud, and sometimes deeply frayed;
But to look deeper is to see the pattern we have made.

We are not separate stars, but galaxies that clash and blend,
A tapestry where joy begins and battles sometimes end.
Four sons grown tall, with voices strong and paths they walk alone,
Returning always to the hearth where all their seeds were sown.

The smaller loves, the grandchildren, a chorus bright and bold,
Unfurling innocence upon the stories that are old.
And at the core, the quiet strength that binds the first two souls,
Navigating slippery roads and seeking shared, fixed goals.

We are the kitchen chaos, the laughter sharp and quick,
The prayers whispered in the dark when the hours make us sick.
We are the worn out sofa where the bodies always pile,
The stubborn, fixed affection that extends across each mile.

We carry burdens that are heavy, stress that’s tightly wound,
Especially when space is tight and sanctuary can’t be found.
But in the friction of the day, the clashes and the stress,
We find the truth: in loving fiercely, we are blessed.

Though priorities may shift and outside voices call,
We stand together, waiting for the spring to break the wall.
A family is a fortress, built not of stone, but grace,
And we, nine hearts entwined, still hold our destined place.